


smoke drifting in the wind

by orphan_account



Category: Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, and who i am as a person, gen - Freeform, idk - Freeform, ok i consistently forget clark when im making a list of the team what does that say abt me, symbolism or smthing, there's like, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Barry knows that friends aren't for people like him, people with something broken inside.His team collectively rolls their eyes and sets about fixing this, because honestly? That's the dumbest thing they've ever heard.akaBarry is a bit of an idiot sometimes, but his team loves him anyway. Now they just have to make him realize it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write something like this after seeing the movie, and a lot of people seemed ot enjoy my other fic. Also, there's one scene in here that may resemble the slightest bit some other story in the fandom- "Together (Justice League- Barry Whump" by EvilApril. Literally the only thing that might resemble it is Barry wakes up and uses his superspeed, but I'm a bit paranoid about people accusing me of plagiarism, so.
> 
> Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, vague references to past child abuse

It's Arthur that notices it first, which is not something Bruce thought would happen, not in a situation like this. He comes to Bruce after a mission- and how  _Bruce_  became the person to go to, he'll never know-  and voices his concerns. "Do you think the kid's been looking a little.. pale, lately?"

He must notice the skepticism in Bruce's expression, because he hastens to add, "Not that I'm worried about him! I just don't want it to be a liability during missions."

He stomps away soon after that, heading towards the ocean to brood surrounded by seaweed or whatever he does in his free time. Privately, Bruce thinks that Arthur's becoming fond of Barry, given the way he drags the younger man off for food or lets Barry study his powers whenever the speedster wants to know more, even though he knows that Arthur will never admit it. 

However, he also knows that if Arthur came to him before anyone else did, there's a good chance that something's actually up with Barry.

He resolves to keep an eye on the kid. He doesn't expect it to be a big deal, at least, not yet. Certainly not during the next mission.

But when has anything involving Barry ever gone as expected?

* * *

The world is on fire, and Barry struggles to breathe. Flames dance around him, leaping high, beautifully chaotic, and all he can think is _at least it’s me._

Bruce would probably frown at him for that thought, give him that gruff stare that means he doesn’t want to smile at Barry’s bad jokes because it would ruin his image, but underneath the surface his Dad Humor is stirring. Because Bruce does have Dad Humor, and Barry has been the recipient of one too many “Hi Hungry, I’m Bruce” jokes to forget it.

Diana would do that thing where she wants to yell at someone but doesn’t because she’s elegant and graceful and everything that Barry isn’t. She’d frown, her face a dignified expression that makes you want to apologize for the time you jaywalked when you were twelve.

Victor would look tired, so very, very tired. He gets that way, sometimes, when Barry says something awkward, puts his foot in his mouth for the eleventy-second time, when everyone’s reminded that Barry struggles with social norms for more reasons than one. And, okay, he does, he knows this, but he’s trying, and he’s getting better, most days, at knowing what not to say, at knowing what will make people laugh at some times and look like they want to hit him at other times. He’s getting better at telling when those times are, too.

Clark would do his little half-grin- the one where he tries to put on a happy face but really wants to cry at Barry's obviously different childhood than his apple pie, fishing in streams, boy scout childhood. He'd drag Barry off for an afternoon at the Kent farm, where Mrs. Kent would offer him seconds and thirds and fourths at dinner and listen as he described the newest science article he'd read. 

Arthur- Arthur would sigh, then drop an arm around his shoulders and drag him off to some low-key, salt-crusted bar that would serve alcohol to Arthur and some sort of fish that Barry always eyed dubiously by ate anyway, because food was food and even if it didn’t taste good it would provide calories, something he needs badly. He’s been mistaken for Arthur’s younger brother more times than not, and whenever it happens, Arthur takes pleasure in doing the ‘older brother’ act, ruffling Barry’s hair and laughing as he bats the older man’s hands away and tries to smooth down the mess.

It's all very endearing, Barry decides, and fitting, perhaps, that he's thinking about the few people that have accepted him the way he is. That hasn't happened much, and now that he's going to die-

He's going to die. The knowledge hits Barry like a truck, slamming into him with a force that makes him blink back tears from more than just the smoke in the air. He's going to die alone, and-

Barry wants to see his team before he dies.

He wonders hazily where that has come from. It’s a bit dramatic for his taste, honestly. Selfish, too. Why would he want his team to risk their lives coming into a burning building to try and save him?

He floats hazily, smoke filling his lungs slowly as it saturates the air and sinks closer to the ground.

He hadn’t expected the building to collapse this fast, honestly. He thought he'd have more time, but, well, apparently not. As fast as he moves, everything else does move around him. One last check of the building while the others were fighting the villain of the week had turned into a disaster when he had found himself pinned between a large wall of flame, a drop four stories high, and another wall of flame. 

He heals fast, but not that fast. An eighty foot drop would kill him, and he never really imagined his life ending at the tender age of nineteen. 

(Maybe he'll come back like Victor, metal and awesome. Victor made it twenty-one, died, and has been living as a cyborg for two years now. 

Victor hates it, but Barry thinks that he'd rather be half robot than dead. He can't do that to his dad.)

Of course, with the way his day's going, it looks like he'll be dead soon anyway. Smoke rises, though, he remembers hearing at some Fire Village safety camp of some sort that he had visited as a kid- before this had all started, before his mom was murdered, before everything- 

Barry's train of thought is derailed violently as he coughs, tears burning in his eyes before evaporating in the hot air. 

Nothing makes sense anymore. His earlier thought drifts by him, floating lazily by on wisps of smoke, and he reflects that if there's anything good to come out of this, it's the fact that it's him that's going to die, not anyone else. Isn't there a saying of some sort? Something about how a group is only as strong as their weakest member?  If he's going to die, he'll go out making his team stronger, so at least there's that comfort.

The word  _friends_ makes its way to the front of Barry's mind, and he recoils from it mentally. That isn't- he can't just claim them as his friends. He might be socially awkward, not sure of what to do in most situations that involve, like, normal people that aren't trying to take advantage of him one way or another- and they might be, okay, he's considered that, but there has to be something more than that to this. They haven't cast him away yet, and even if it's coming, even if he knows it'll happen soon, he's going to take every scrap of positive attention that they spare him- but even he knows that  _friends_ are something that other people get. That other people deserve. 

He has to earn them, showing them that he's not a total screw-up, that he's worth keeping around, even if it's just as someone to lash out at when they get angry. 

(But that hasn't happened yet. Bruce gets angry and he shuts himself away but he never, _never_  does so much as insinuate that Barry's to blame. Diana wants to hit something and she takes out on a punching bag instead of someone, instead of him. Victor goes quiet and angry and he doesn't blame Barry, just speaks quietly and says he needs to fly, sleep, eat, something.

Clark looks at the wall in a way that reminds Barry of the time that he got beat up by him, but the man hasn't laid a hostile hand on him since. Arthur dives in the ocean after missions gone wrong and doesn't resurface for hours, but the only time he forgot to provide Barry with a way home when he was too exhausted to run, he had been horrified and ashamed and apologized more times than Barry had even heard the guy speak to him.)

The smoke is heavier now, and Barry wonders how his thoughts have managed to keep any semblance of order. They haven't, not really, but it's nice to pretend that something about him works the way it's supposed to, because there's certainly something broken about the rest of him. 

A shadow looms over him, and Barry thinks that smoke looks an awful lot like Clark, and then he's being scooped up in strong arms that definitely aren't made of smoke. A concerned voice asks, "Are you okay?"

Barry likes to think that if he were ever rescuing someone that was half-unconscious from a burning building, he wouldn't ask them if they were okay. However, knowing him, he'd not only ask them if they were okay, he'd ask if they were enjoying their stay and if they wouldn't be too upset if he took them away from imminent death.

Barry offers a weak cough in return, and Clark's grip gets a little firmer. "Hold on. I'm getting you outside."

True to his word, Superman does indeed get Barry out. Unfortunately, the sudden rush of oxygen makes Barry pass out before he can properly appreciate this fact. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you may have noticed that there's a new chapter, and im here to tell you that thats half true. i decided to split up the second part, bc there was a pov shift that i felt could be confusing.
> 
> the next part will be posted sometime around thursday (hopefully) when i am finished with most of my finals/papers. if you want to give me encouragement literally anything helps bc i am dying and also planning on writing a paper tomorrow night so uh. that's happening. 
> 
> anyways hope you enjoy this surprise update!! im loving seeing everyone's reaction to this!!

Barry wakes up the same way he lives: explosively, and without a lot of grace.

One moment he's flat on his back staring up at a ceiling of muted gray, the next he's laid out flat on the floor, one arm twisted painfully and handcuffed to the bed. He's not sure where he is, he's in pain, and everything around him is painfully loud.

Barry panics. He forces himself to his feet- it hurts, but then, he's always been good at working through pain- and examines the cuff holding him to the metal railing of a hospital bed. It's simple, nothing more than metal held together with a few screws. Nothing like the cuffs he was restrained with a few months ago. 

He rubs a hand across his face, through his hair, and freezes. He shouldn't be able to do that. He shouldn't be able to touch his hair right now.

His cowl is off. Whoever kidnapped him knows his identity.

Barry panics, suddenly very aware of the fact that whoever has him now has an immense amount of leverage over him. He yanks on the cuff, trying to escape, before he realizes that he can simply vibrate his way out of this. He's in the middle of taking a calming breath, trying to center himself, when the door slams open.

Barry startles away from the sound, unrestrained arm going up automatically to protect his head. 

When nothing happens, he warily lowers his arm, only to see Bruce standing in the doorway, face stricken, hands raised placatingly. "Barry?"

Barry chokes out a laugh, relieved. "It's- oh. It's you. I'm here."

Bruce nods slowly. "Just me. You're in the cave. You've been unconscious for two hours. We brought you here to treat you for smoke inhalation after you passed out. The others are upstairs."

Barry nods, head clearing enough to follow the conversation. He glances down at his hands. "Uh, not a big deal, but, um, why am I handcuffed?"

Bruce starts to move forward, then stops. "Okay if I come over?"

Barry nods, but he can't stop his gaze from flicking the older man's hands every so often. He feels guilty, but-. 

Bruce pulls a key from his pocket as he approaches. "I knew you'd be disoriented when you woke up, so I just wanted to make sure you didn't wind up halfway across the world before you knew what was going on."

Barry doesn't know what to say to that, so he settles for watching Bruce unlock the handcuffs. He rubs his sore wrist as Bruce turns and makes the short walk back to the door of the room.

The older man picks something up from the floor- he must've dropped it when he raised his hands, Barry realizes- and then turns and throws a pair of faded pajama pants and an old, soft t-shirt to him, along with one of his old flannel jackets- the one that's a deep red, his favorite. They look strangely familiar until Barry realizes that they're his own pajamas. He glances up at Bruce. "Uh, not that I'm complaining, but why do you have my clothes?"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I didn't break into your warehouse, since you're obviously wondering that. You left them here last time you stayed the night."

Barry plasters on a smile, shrugging. He's relieved when Bruce turns away, because after everything else, he doesn't want the older man to see the way the sentence hits him, like a punch to the gut. It's a stark reminder of everything Bruce has done for him, of everything he owes the other man. There's no way Barry can ever pay him back, and every day adds to that debt in some way.

This is why he doesn't deserve friends. He's a burden, taking and taking and taking, never giving. This is why it's better for everyone when he's the one hurt one missions. If the weakest link is the one taking the hits, the other links stay strong. 

He's shaken out of his thoughts as Bruce tosses over his shoulder, "Go get changed and head upstairs. Alfred made dinner. I'll be up in a few minutes after I finish this report."

Barry can't help the next words that come out of his mouth. It's instinctual, snark ever at the tip of his tongue, a sharp retort guarding against a sharper world. 

"Okay,  _Dad_." 

Barry freezes, waits for the inevitable repercussion, but somehow,  _somehow_ , Bruce doesn't hear, still engrossed in whatever report he's working on. He gives it a moment, then heads towards the showers. He needs to leave before he says something else that will end with Bruce hearing it and Barry getting in trouble. He's lucky Bruce didn't hear this.

So why is he disappointed?

He pushes the feeling away and goes to get changed. 

* * *

After dinner with the team- one filled with delicious food and jokes and laughter, like every dinner they eat together- Bruce looks around the table, then meets Barry's eyes. "I think we need to talk."

Barry nods, unable to speak. 

They walk to the nearest living room in silence, and Barry drops onto the first couch he sees. He can't not sit- if he stands, he's going to bolt as soon as someone starts talking.

Soon- too soon- everyone's settled somewhere in the room, but still no one has begun to talk, so Barry does what he always does when nervous- watch others for cues on what to do.

Bruce is sitting across from him in an armchair, Diana in another one a few feet away from him. Victor is leaning against the mantel, with Clark standing near him with his arms crossed. Even though Arthur is sitting on the same couch as him, he's being careful to give Barry space, and that- Arthur being careful and considerate- is what makes his heart jump to his throat.

Something bad is about to happen. He knows it. He's messed up again, too badly for them to consider overlooking it this time, and he wants to speak, wants to plead, wants to say  _I'll do better I can fix it please let me fix it_ but he can't make his mouth move and everything's a constant stream of  _you messed up you messed up you're finished you broke this you broke it just like you break everything you messed up_ -

Diana breaks the silence. "Barry."

His gaze snaps to her, mind whirling a thousand miles an hour. This is it. This is the last time he'll see any of them before they kick him out.

Diana continues, and Barry listens and wishes with increasing intensity that a hole will open in the ground and swallow him up. "After we brought you here, Bruce did a scan to make sure you weren't hurt, and he found-"

She breaks off and looks at Bruce, and he picks up where she leaves off. "I found signs of multiple broken bones and fractures that have healed recently. As in, a few weeks ago recently."

It takes Barry a moment to realize that they're all staring at him, waiting for an answer. "Oh- oh, it's my- you wanted me to answer that, it wasn't rhetorical- okay. Okay. Um, well, the way my healing works is that the healing process speeds everything up, and so, like, after today everything's going to look at least a month or so old-"

Bruce cuts him off. "I meant a few weeks ago  _with_  your healing factor."

Barry can feel himself shrinking down, pulling his jacket around himself like a shield, a protection against the storm that he knows is just waiting to break against him. They know. They know and now there's no going back. 

He makes himself speak, mumbling words so quietly that he's surprised anyone understands them. "I mean, healing takes extra calories, and, you know, that means I have to buy more food, and, like, I'm not exactly working three jobs anymore because I had to make time for league stuff, and so I'm just hungrier a lot more of the time than I used to be. And, like, okay, I'm not the  _most_  graceful person in the world when I'm hungry, so."

His sentences trail off into nothing, leaving his teammates staring at him. 

He'd rather be anywhere other than here.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the rest! it's from bruce's pov bc it worked a lot better from this section and also allowed for more angst(TM) from different character
> 
> also i loved writing this story and seeing everyone's reactions as they read, so thank yall so much for reviewing and reading it in general! i'm going to try and have a diana and barry centric story up soon-ish, but i'm historically bad at deadlines, so we'll see.
> 
> i'll be replying to everyone's comments from last chapter tonight as well!!
> 
> if i don't have it up before the holidays, happy holidays to everyone!

Bruce stares at the kid in front of him for a moment, then closes his eyes and breathes deeply. A headache is starting to come on. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he asks, "Are you telling me that you're stuck in a vicious cycle of being the clumsiest kid alive?"

Barry frowns for a moment, mind obviously bouncing through a hundred different replies. "That- well, that's actually pretty correct, just, uh, with more consequences? Maybe? I-"

Bruce holds up a hand to silence him. "Let me make sure I understand what you're saying here." He waits for the kid to obediently fall silent before he continues. "You're not getting enough food now that you're only working one job, which makes you more tired and distracted than normal. Because you're more tired than normal, you're clumsier than normal, which means you run into things or trip more while you're running. Am I right so far?"

Barry nods, and Bruce continues. "When you hit something while you're running, you normally break, fracture, or at least seriously bruise a bone. This means your healing factor has to work more than normal, which means that you need more food, which you don't have, which means you're hungrier than you should be, which means this whole cycle starts over. Is this correct?"

Bruce waits as the kid digests the words, head tilting slightly to the side like an inquisitive puppy. "...Yes."

Barry opens his mouth to continue, but Bruce holds up a hand to silence him. the rest of the League watches, and Bruce realizes that he's the only one who's talked in several minutes. Somehow, this doesn't bother him as much as it once might have. "I think the question we all have, then, is  _why didn't you say something sooner?"_

Barry burrows into his worn jacket, hands shoved deep in the pockets, eyes flicking to the ground. He shrugs, wordless, and something inside Bruce  _knows_. He's seen this before, with Dick when he first stayed with him, and from Jason as well, albeit for a longer time.

"Is it because you think you're already enough of a burden?"

Diana opens her mouth at that, half-rising from her seat in the armchair. Bruce holds up a hand, and she sinks back down. All eyes are on Barry, who's looking smaller than Bruce has ever seen him. 

One moment he's there, the next he's gone. 

The rest of the team start to their feet- or, in the case of Clark and Victor, to a more alert stance. Bruce turns to Clark. "Any chance you can hear where he is?"

Clark nods, closing his eyes. After a moment, he turns to Bruce. "Sitting on a cliff on the west side of the manor."

Bruce sighs. "I know the place. Give me a lift?" He'd rather make his own way there, but Clark can get him to the cliff faster than he can walk, and he'd rather not leave Barry to sit in his head alone for twenty minutes.

Clark nods, then steps towards the other man. Bruce blinks, and they're standing twenty feet away from Barry.

The kid's quite a sight. He's sitting on the edge of the cliff, pajama-clad legs swinging slightly in the biting wind, the legs of his pants almost-but-not-quite covering his bare feet, huddled down in his worn jacket. 

Bruce turns to Clark. "Do you think you could give us a minute?"

He hesitates, but eventually nods. Bruce watches as the other man leaves, then approaches the kid. He lowers himself to the ground with a soft groan. He's not as young as he once was, and it shows itself on days like today. He mimicks the kid's posture- legs dangling over the side of the cliff, hands tucked into his pockets. His mind drifts to a different time, a different young man, but the same problem, the same spot. 

Barry shifts warily and Bruce is pulled back to the present. He sighs softly. Barry isn't about to start talking, judging from his body language, and so it's left to Bruce to start the conversation.

Days like today almost make him miss the years when he worked alone.

"Can I ask why you think that?'

He doesn't have to specify what he's talking about. He knows that Barry knows. It takes a second, but Barry begins to speak, softer and quieter than Bruce has ever heard him talk outside of a mission. "I just- you guys have done so much for me already, you know? And, like, you let me hang out with you and you feed me sometimes- and this is, like, a collective you, because, you know, you all do it- and- and- and-

"It's not like I think I'm worthless, you know? But there's gotta be a limit on that worth sometime, and I'm scared I'm going to hit it sooner rather than later, and I just- I don't want to get used to this, you know, to having someone care about what happens to me more than just worrying if I'm going to get to my shift on time, or- or something like that. Because it's going to go away, I know that, okay, and it's going to hurt when it does, so I just- I can't get used to it."

Barry falls silent, and from where Bruce is sitting- so close their shoulders are almost pressed together- he can see Barry's entire frame trembling, wracked with emotion.

He doesn't even have to think about what he's going to say. He's said it before, with the same emotions coursing through him that are now. 

"Don't ever- don't  _ever_  think that you're going to stop being worth something. You're not, understand? You're not and never will there come a situation where you're suddenly worthless." And Bruce knows, he  _knows_ , that this is coming from Barry's less than-stellar-childhood, but that doesn't make it any better, doesn't make it any more acceptable. So he keep talking.

"And being scared of getting comfortable with people that care about you? It's rough. There's an adjustment period where you can't stop feeling like the world's going to crash down around you and you're not going to make it out alive. After I came back from my- from my trip, it was hard for me to remember how to let Alfred care for me without feeling like I owed him something. But he did. He did, and he didn't leave, and he didn't stop caring, no matter what I did."

Bruce almost hesitates then, unsure of how he's going to be received, but he knows that this is something Barry desperately needs to hear. 

"We're not going to stop caring, Barry. We're here to stay, so you're stuck with us."

There's a beat of silence, and then Barry lets out a muffled laugh, face buried in his hands. And if it sounds more like a sob, well, Bruce isn't going to call him on it. "More like you're stuck with me."

Bruce smiles and rests his arm around Barry's shoulder, pulling the younger man closer to him. "Never."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: like barry in this story, i too tremble when i get emotionally excited
> 
> anyways hope you are enjoying these fics and also picking up on the jason hints i continue to drop with increasingly less subtlety
> 
> also: i think i am beginning to write a trend of arthur becoming better friends with barry bc i feel like he'd be the type to argue with him a lot like a brother but he'd also see him and be like "that kid needs an older brother" kind of like a thor-loki situation except less murdering


End file.
